Sand
by yeaka
Summary: A snippet of Harry and Ron's honeymoon. (Drabble. RWHP, slash.)


Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its contents, and I'm not making any money off this.

Warnings: Slash, established relationship, fluff, drabble.

A/N: Gift for Lijahlover on my LJ.

* * *

They're almost done the most romantic day of Harry's life when his foot hits a rock, and he stumbles sideways into Ron. Usually sturdy, Ron's caught off guard, and the two of them go tumbling into the sand below. Harry's first instinct is to mutter, "Sorry," and then follow up with a belated, "Ow."

Ron sits up, knocking Harry into his lap, and the sand is plastered all around his edges, probably blanketing his back. They're still damp from the water, and Harry can feel his husband's wet, tented swimming trunks pressing into his own. Ron's are red, and Harry's are blue. The pain of the rock momentarily distracted Harry, but being so close to Ron again instantly re-ignites his flame. Ron cracks a small smile, and puts humour in. "The great Harry Potter; can't be taken down by an entire dark army, but a pebble can do it."

Harry laughs, "Shut up," and kisses Ron's cheek, before slowly get back to his feet. His toes sink into the wet, grainy ground, and the gentle waves that lap at the shore threaten to suck him back in. Harry fidgets as Ron straightens and brushes off beside him, and decides he needs a band-aide. Or at least a wand. He leans on Ron's shoulder and mumbles, "Kinda stings."

"Aw, baby," Ron coos, in a half-still-humorous, half-genuinely-concerned voice. Harry pouts at his husband, and Ron, smiling, kisses him back. It turns passionate quickly – there was a reason they were heading back. Harry raises his injured foot out of the sand as Ron's tongue slips into his mouth, and they make out for a few moments. When their lips part Ron kiss him on the forehead, and bends down.

Ron scoops him up so fast that Harry doesn't have time to do more than squeak, hands shooting around his husbands' neck. Ron hefts him up like a new bride, arms under Harry's back and knees. Harry's cheeks flush a little more, and he holds Ron tightly.

He's always impressed with Ron's strength. He's often surprised when Ron does something romantic. He loves the way Ron's deep, caring voice rolls over him, purring, "Not to worry, darling. I've got you." He pecks Harry's forehead, right next to the scar, and promptly turns to carry him across the beach. The setting sun silhouettes them, casting a long, reaching shadow, and Harry leans his head on his husband's shoulder as he's carried across the beach.

It's the best vacation Harry's ever had. It's the best honeymoon he can imagine. And Harry isn't at all worried that this will be the best night of his life. Ron carries him across the little, raised wooden bridge across the water, to the expensive, hut-like hotel, suspended over the ocean. Harry can hear the smooth waves licking at the pillars as they cross, and the single-room, miniature house is like something out of a postcard. Ron shifts Harry to twist the handle and carries him across the threshold.

Inside Harry expects to be dropped, but isn't. Instead he's carried over to the king-sized bed and lovingly deposited in the pearl-white sheets. Harry adjusts to get comfortable in the pillows and mumbles, "Are you going to play doctor on me?"

Ron says, "Doctor?" and looks a little confused, standing by the bedside.

Harry laughs, "Nevermind, it's a muggle thing," and holds out his arms for Ron to join him.

Ron smiles it off, and he moves to climb atop Harry, predatory and tender all at once. They're both still a little wet, and they dampen the sheets, but the weather's so warm here that Harry doesn't care. Ron leans down to kiss him, and Harry lifts up on his elbows to finish. He threads one hand through Ron's messy, red hair, and he runs the other down Ron's smooth spine, dipping to the bottom of his swim trunks. Ron pulls back to kiss Harry's ear, mumbling, "I don't mean to be a pig, but I've been looking forward to this all day."

Grinning and squirming the tips of his fingers beneath Ron's elastic waistband, Harry murmurs, "What's 'this'?"

"Making love to you." Ron kisses the side of Harry's face again, skillfully weaseling his way out of any 'pig' status. Things have changed alot since they were children. ...And they came all that way together.

Ron was Harry's first friend, his first love, and his first time. Ron is Harry's first everything, and he's the most important thing in Harry's life, and he smiles back down like Harry's his world.

Harry pulls Ron down into him, and says for the millionth time, "I love you."


End file.
